Running and Sparrows

Dear Hearts,

I come to you from the couch on the “porch,” room that was added on and is surrounded by tall windows.

It’s a great room. It’s Mom’s sanctuary. I used to smoke down here until Maddie got Lar-Par. Actually, this couch is probably about 35 years old. Nan and Pop sat on it for many years as they watched TV and entertained guests. 

Viv and Al—I remember these friends of my grandparents. Now we are going back 30 years. Al always brought me a cardboard cigar box with sea shells in it. They lived in Florida half the year. Viv smoked like fucking Chernobyl. I used to hide her cigarettes, because we taught those were bad in our little country elementary school. Viv would get pissed off. I get that now. My impetus for this blog is my chilled coffee and first cigarette of the day.

One time they were visiting I said something off hand about how I liked the fields we have un-mowed because I could run through them in the foggy mornings and pretend to be a fairy.

“Well, little girl, this isn’t your house, is it?”

Damn bitch. No Nan and Pop owned the house and we “rented.” What-the-fuck ever. My Dad went into that deal with me and called Mom in Illinois after the deal was done. I was six-months old. She was not happy about it. But, what choice did she have? They were going to build a house on one of the acres—didn’t happen.

Under Nan’s reign Mom and Dad were unhappy for a lot of years. But, things are better now. So much better. I sent them off to see Gaia and Johnny sing and play at a fancy-smanchy hotel tonight.

GAIA: MY NOT GOING HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH NOT WANTING TO YOU AND JOHNNY TOGETHER (BECAUSE SOMETIMES IT JUST HURTS MY HEART SO BADLY) OR ANY OTHER SELFISH REASON. I REALLY GAVE THIS AS A GIFT TO MOM

Any way. I have the house to myself. Someone has to be here with Maddie in case she sneezes. Dad does not leave her alone. Ever.

Feeling a bit episodic. No Shrink—no coffee or caffeine involved. Hold on—I’m gonna get my Xanax. Okay. Took two milligrams. I had quite the bad episode yesterday. Mom and I were at the house and I actually smoke a cigarette in the mid afternoon to just calm myself.

I am doing a Virginia Wolfe here.

This porch holds a lot of memories. The couch is a pull-out. My cousin, sister, and I had a lot of sleep overs in this room. We had a lot of fun. Mickey and I would put out pillows outside so they would be cold—temporary AC pillows, I guess? We didn’t have AC of any kind then.

Mom and Dad were unhappy for a lot of years. I still have a chance at happiness. I cannot drop anchor in the well.

EVERYTHING is boxed up in the house. EVERYTHING. We spent the night there Friday. Mom packed all night in her sleep and I woke up screaming several times. That house is fucking evil. It’s vampiric. I slept till 10 this morning and then took another nap. I worry about leaving some little thing there—but I am glad I won’t be there when the move happens.

I truly don’t understand. Why is so hard to give up a house I have come to hate?

I did not go to Mass last night or today. SHOCKER.

Mom has a priest friend, Monsignor, whom she and my dad have known since their twenties. Dad is actually jealous of Father. He thinks Monsignor is “hot for Mom’s bod” and wants to procure this acreage and house for the Vatican. I don’t think so. Father has met the Pope! He writes speeches for the Pope! But, Dad, he does not live in a luxurious mansion with servants. He flies economy to different countries every week and has a small apartment in Geneva. He will often answer quandaries about the Catholic Faith for me. “Mon” said that the whole not going to Mass as a Mortal Sin thing…how the fuck can murder be in the same Sin Category as not going to Mass? Mon said that the purpose of that law was to “make” Catholics put aside time to be with God and keep the Sabbath Holy.

Shit, I talk to God all the Goddamn time.

Mother Mary: Jesus Christ! It’s that fucking Kate again! You take her prayer this time!

Saint Jude: Yo! Petey! I was an Apostle too! You deal with Kate tonight.

Christ: Holy Ghost—she is all yours tonight.

Jed, my Guardian Angel has put in for a transfer.

My point is that I talk to God, Mother Mary, Christ, The Holy Ghost, and the Saint A FUCKING LOT!

Instead of Mass yesterday I ran with Dad. I have never run with Dad before. Today he had some kind of three or five K Race he does every year. He got third in his age category and yes, there were more than three people in his category. But he did a light warm-up jog last night. Mom walked with Maddie and Dad and I ran. He runs slower than I, but he can sprint like a cat on fire when he wants to.

I ran today too and prayed.

Dad said, “Good job. I’m proud of you.”

Those words meant so much. I am doing something right.

I am totally freaked about not having a “solid” job with benefits and tenure and a retirement—but I am getting better.

Oh, The Thief, that Anaconda, is still there—but I can run again.

I can’t love myself, Shrink. In the shower, I was thinking about something and “stupid bitch” came out of my mouth to describe myself.

Running with Dad through the woods…how can I be closer to Christ? Running and praying today, just talking to God…how can I be closer to Christ. And the buffalo meatballs we had and I’m gonna have tonight—are just as a sacred as The Host. I believe that.

I was supposed to go tonight with Dad. Mom was said to stay home. But, it’s always about me and what I need. They have done so motherfucking much for me—they deserve a night out, just the two of them. With Dad refusing to leave Maddie alone—Mom and Dad have not been out on a “date” for a long time and won’t be for another long time. They fucking deserve that. I also told them that Mom’s seats in the Subaru go all the way back and if they wanted to stop for a little chicka-chicka-bow-wow on the way home that way fine—encouraged even.

Yeah, part of me wanted to get dressed up and go out. But I am savoring the quiet I have here before I return to The Holy City. And, it’s not like chaos in the Holy City—but things are scheduled to the minute. I am savoring this solitary time. No, I may never see Gaia and Johnny sing at this hotel, but Mom had no ambivalence about going to see them tonight. I did. I don’t do BBQ and the loud music is just, well too fucking loud. And if I sit there and just watch a “concert” my mind wanders to dark places. It’s not like I was gonna bring my cross stitch. I can give this gift to Mom and Dad.

Tomorrow the Moving Company is coming to the NY House to give an estimate. My life—so many of the things I care about—are in boxes. Things that represent my life. That are a part of me. But, they are THINGS.

Matthew 6

²⁵ Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?

²⁶ Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?

²⁷ Which of you by taking thought can add one cubit unto his stature?

²⁸ And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:

²⁹ And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

³⁰ Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which to day is, and to morrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?

³¹ Therefore take no thought, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be clothed?

³² (For after all these things do the Gentiles seek:) for your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.

³³ But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.

³⁴ Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

I am going to howl with my Wolf Heart and have my chilled coffee and first cigarette of the day. Life worth living.

Funny—this post in a totally different direction than I thought it would…

Smoke ‘em if ya’ got ‘em. God Bless

In the name of The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit; Mother Mary, Saint Brigid; Saint Jude; Saint Therese Lisieux; Saint Peter; Archangel Michael, and my Guardian Angel, Jed.

Grateful For:

Apple Turnovers

Chilled Coffee

Cigarettes

Health

UC Remission

Family

Buffalo meat balls

Running

Ray Donovan

Solitude

Right now, I feel good and I am Goddamn grateful for that. That could change at any moment. That sucks. And the Anaconda strikes.

Running with Dad over Mass any day.